I Don't Know What You Could Possibly Expect
by wowsugarpuss
Summary: Is this epic enough for you? Up to 222.


_I don't know what you could possibly __expect under this condition._

_

* * *

_

She chokes all these words that she can't mean. "I made him. I made him go, he didn't want to." All these things that boil down to her screaming, "IT'S ALL MY FAULT" right in his face.

They're messy and half-formed but they're still words and he understands them and he understands her meaning. And it burns but it's just--

* * *

Logan rakes his fingers through his hair like he's trying to pull it out. He can't close his mouth, leaves it just hanging in shock. He's in a fishbowl of confusion and Veronica's been violated again.

He kicks the wall so hard black rubber from his sneaker trails up against the white. The hotel management frown, Veronica's breath hitches. He doesn't give a fuck, he kicks it again. When Veronica's breath breaks he stops.

* * *

The clean-up team are there by the time they're allowed to leave the hotel. He kind of wants to see Beaver mashed up on the hood of some car. Not for revenge but because this disbelief is suffocating him. It needs a click, like safetys coming off. It's a long drive to the hospital, Veronica doesn't say a word.

She's breathing in short, sharp gun-shots. Her fingers are curled around his shirt like it's a trigger. He thinks there should be an ambulance or something for them but worse things have happened to her tonight than voltage in her veins.

He doesn't know how he can still drive or why anybody let him.

Veronica's mouth is red and cracked and shiny with vomit. She doesn't wipe it, he really wishes she would.

* * *

He's known Dick and the Beav forever. But he didn't really know them at all and although he'd begun to suspect that with Dick-- he just never would have-- Logan guesses he never really cared. Now, knowing Beav raped his not-really-maybe-girlfriend-_something_, Logan's even less inclined to care. Or maybe he cares in completely the wrong way where he would have pointed that fucking gun at him and blown him into tiny fucking pieces for her. (If Woody Goodman hadn't gotten there first, blown the poor boy into tiny fucking pieces).

If only his hand hadn't been shaking. If only Veronica hadn't been crumbling. If only his brain had been turned on.

Logan's so fucking relieved in retrospect that Veronica's sobbing had sideswiped his entire thought-system.

He doesn't want to be a murder.

Even if he's only murdering murderous-rapists.

He doesn't want to be his father. Logan doesn't want to die but someone shot at his head tonight.

* * *

He makes her drink some orange juice to stop her hands shaking. She throws up, head down the toilet bowl, damp on her socked feet. She's doing that a lot. Logan would still kiss her if that wouldn't be taking a horrible advantage.

Her apartment stinks of orange bile. It's like death. Sweet, rotting, flesh that hasn't really started rotting yet at all. It's like things inside her are starting to die and bubble out.

* * *

The pancakes stink like death too. Slices of corpse Logan can't bring himself to eat. They should be fluffy and sweet and light, something to make it better. But everything's off now.

He just needs to keep Veronica alive.

She prefers waffles but he couldn't find the iron and she won't eat them anyway. He's looked fucking everywhere for that iron.

* * *

It's about five minutes after Veronica finds out that her dad's alive that Logan finds out his is not.

His dad's the one with a hole in his head (like Lilly but less glamorous, less bangbang baby shot me down, less pizzazz and fucking jazz hands) and Logan doesn't know if he cries now. Cry, sob, weep, throw a giant fucking bash--

He's dead. Logan's been desensitized. That's what he wants to think.

After Veronica calls (she couldn't come to the Grand yet) he bursts into tears. Girly snotty tears. He doesn't have a mom and he doesn't have a dad or a biological sister. He doesn't know any of his extended family, estranged from movie stars too good for them and their roots. He doesn't have a best friend, he doesn't have a girlfriend and he nearly died last night.

He calls her again, a whole three seconds after she hung up, and he's still kind of crying but she's seen it all anyway. He's all mumbles and heavy breaths. "You wanna meet me somewhere?" She says the beach and he hopes she means _in the middle_ because he doesn't want do this without her for much longer.


End file.
